


Bloom Later

by thornebarker



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU Newt lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Movie Centric, Multi, Pinky promise, Slow Burn, also alive, but also action, but also details from the book, everyone ships it, happy endings, i swear he doesnt, its a funny story, living in paradise, newt deserves to be HAPPY, newtmas - Freeform, other side relationships - Freeform, ps i knoww the summary makes it sound like thomas killed newt, tommy is love sick but doesn't realize it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornebarker/pseuds/thornebarker
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Thomas chants like a broken record. “I’m so sorry, Newt. I’m doing this for you, buddy. We’re gonna save you, okay? Please don't die on me.” Thomas takes a shaky breath, hates himself for what he’s about to do to the boy in front of him. “Forgive me when you wake up.”With that, Thomas grasps onto the blonde hair at the back of his friend’s head, lifts him up, and swiftly brings his hand back down. Newt’s skull smashes against the ground with a sickening wet crunch. His body goes still under Thomas.[ aka, the au where teresa finds the cure fast enough, and our boys are happy. ]





	1. oats in the water - ben howard

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys. listen so I just got back from seeing The Death Cure at nine pm and it's now three twenty eight am, and i've been sitting here writing (and crying) for hours because it was beautiful but ripped my heart apart and really, thomas and newt didn't deserve for that to happen. so i'm writing this au where teresa finds a cure before thomas has to kill newt, because we all need newtmas living in paradise and finally being able to explore their awkward teenage romance. enjoy xx
> 
> ps: this is very movie centric, mostly because i read the books so long ago, but there will be some elements from the original story included.

Thomas isn’t sure why he's crying- if he’s crying. Maybe it’s from the debris of the destroyed city in his eyes, dust and shrapnel flying around him as he scrabbles for shelter. Or maybe it’s because of the burn in his muscles, the ache in his body that only amplifies with every staggering step as he drags the heavy weight of his friend across the deserted plaza.

If Thomas is honest with himself, he knows it’s because of Newt. His Newt, limp and gasping for breath in his hold. His friend isn’t going to make it. Thomas isn’t going to make it. His legs give out under him and they both fall towards the cobblestone.

“Oh no, no,” Thomas scrambles up, panic lacing his voice. “Come on, buddy, come on. We’re almost there.” He desperately wishes he believed in his own words. Wished he hadn’t sent Gally and Minho on ahead. He can’t do this without them, can’t bear to watch Newt like this by himself. He knows he has to be strong.

Newt doesn’t budge from his spot on the ground. Grotesque black veins trickle across his pale face, skin starting to decompose already. He groans as Thomas forcibly drags him by the arms across the ground, writhing in pain.

Thomas only makes it a whole two more steps when suddenly two stage lights from the pillar above them burst into life, blinding them in a white glow. Thomas stops dead in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights. Newt wriggles out of the loosened grasp and splays on his back, going eerily still. Thomas doesn’t notice. The microphones boom on.

“Thomas?” echoes Theresa’s frantic voice in surround sound about the city. “Thomas, wherever you are, I need you to listen to me. Please, just listen.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to come back. Come back to WCKD headquarters. It's you- you’re the cure. I-it’s something in your blood. That’s why Brenda was cured. I know you want to save Newt.”

Thomas’s heart thuds painfully quick.

“I found it. I think we can cure the flare with whatever’s in your blood. If you come to WCKD, I can help you save Newt, and then we can save everybody else. Please, Thomas.”

Theresa’s voice crackles out and all that’s left is the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the dull roar of the catosphere occurring around him. 

Wait.

Thomas jerks around to see Newt wobbling on his feet, silent. His once warm brown eyes are glazed over and hold nothing recognizable. Thomas’s breath hitches.

“Newt?” he says calmly, putting his hands out in front of him. “Hey, it’s me, Thomas. Do you remember me?”

Newt answers by screaming and charging. His body meets Thomas’s in a flurry of quick movements and sharp hits. Thomas is swept off his feet and lands heavily on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Newt- or at least what was once Newt- mounts him and leans forward.

“Kill me, Tommy,” he whispers, his warm brown eyes momentarily clear of their fog. Their faces an inch apart. Thomas trembles beneath him. “Kill me, before I kill you!”

“Newt, please, Theresa has a cure! We can save you. We can save you.” Thomas begs under his breath. He is pinned down by uncharacteristic strength.

Newt cries in anguish, whipping back. A hand darts towards Thomas’s holster and snatches the gun. The blonde holds it up to his temple in a flash.

“No!” Thomas screams as he leans forward and knocks the gun out of his friend’s hand. It goes flying, scuttling out of reach. The brunette uses this moment to push up with all his strength, knocking the blonde off and on his back. Newt quickly moves to stand, growling as he does so, but Thomas rushes forward and pins him face down.

Newt kicks and screams under his measures, and Thomas has to crawl on top of the boy to keep him down. Hands reach back to claw at his skin, but the brunette ignores the pain in favor of keeping his hands flat on Newt’s neck, keeping him from getting up.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas chants like a broken record. “I’m so sorry, Newt. I’m doing this for you, buddy. We’re gonna save you, okay? Please don't die on me.” Thomas takes a shaky breath, hates himself for what he’s about to do to the boy in front of him. “Forgive me when you wake up.”

With that, Thomas grasps onto the blonde hair at the back of his friend’s head, lifts him up, and swiftly brings his hand back down. Newt’s skull smashes against the ground with a sickening wet crunch. His body goes still under Thomas.

Thomas pants heavily. His vision swarms and his ears ring. He feels more than hears an explosion in the distance. Seconds tick by before Thomas gently eases his shaking fingers out of Newt’s hair, even more before he climbs off like the blonde burns him. He goes to flip Newt over carefully.

Thomas brushes dirt and matted hair away from his friend’s face as he examines his doing. Blood covers Newt’s forehead, dark in the night’s lack of light. Thomas rubs a thumb across the boy’s head, streaking his hands with it.

He is almost too afraid to check Newt’s pulse. Terrified to find that he accidentally knocked him too hard. Thomas’s blood runs cold at the thought. He forces his fingertips to trail down to the pale neck. 

He nearly cries in relief at the heartbeat he finds. Weak, but there.

Thomas wastes no more time before standing up on weak legs, wrapping his arms around Newt’s limp body and hoisting him up across his shoulder despite muscles that scream at him for doing so. He goes back for the discarded gun, slipping it into his waistband. They slowly make their way to WCKD Headquarters.

+

Thomas immediately notices upon entry that it’s quiet. Oddly so. The sounds of war outside still make their way into the building, but they’re muffled. The usually crowded halls are now deserted, mind for Thomas and Newt on his back, the latter still unconscious. Thomas limps forward, the elevator doors a beacon of light. Make it to Theresa. Save Newt. Make it to Theresa. Save Newt.

Thomas spots movement in his peripheral vision. A shadow moves only mere feet ahead of them.

Thomas’s heart stops as he sees Janson step into the light, sickly looking and with a sinister glaze in his eyes. He holds a long syringe in his right hand, and a gun in his left.

“Thomas, Thomas,” he tsks. He takes bold steps forward, the slap of his shoes echo in the large, dark corridor. “What a pleasure to have you here- and you brought your little friend, too!”

Thomas is too slow. He can’t reach his gun quick enough with Newt’s body over his shoulder. Janson crosses the remaining distance with surprising agility and jams the needle into Thomas’s neck.

Instantly, his body begins to fail him. Newt slips from his grasp and falls with a slap to the linoleum. Thomas grunts, reaching up to pluck the stub from his neck. He feels dizzy, and promptly collapses next to his friend. 

The room spins. Janson steps into view, leaning over him.

“You should’ve run,” he hisses.

+

Wake up.

He can’t.

Thomas, wake up.

Thomas gasps, eyes springing open. His body jerks with his awakening, but the movement is restricted by leather cuffs. He glances around in a panic, tugging at his restraints all the while.

“Shush now, Thomas.” Janson sing-songs. Thomas whips his head around to glare at the man standing by the table he’s lying on. “This will be much easier if you don’t struggle.”

“Where is Newt,” the brunette growls. Movement behind Janson’s figure catches his attention. Theresa steps around the man, adorned in a lab coat and a pained expression.

“He’s across the lab, Tom,” she says, “right there,” Thomas follows her directed finger and immediately relaxes a hair; Newt lay strapped down on a similar lab table, almost out of view. He looks like hell, but Thomas has to swallow the lump in his throat when he sees him at all.

“Don’t hurt him,” Thomas quietly says. Janson laughs.

“I don’t care about Newt, Thomas,” he spits out. Thomas tracks the bulging veins in the man’s neck. “What I want is you.”

Thomas is taken aback. He scoffs, “piss off. I’d rather die than help you.”

Janson leers down at him. “You think you really have a choice, kid? When I have both you and your precious crank strapped down to a table?” Thomas yanks against the mentioned restraints. 

“No, I get my way with you,” Janson continues, “I use the serum Theresa conconcted on myself, and she’ll drain you of whatever makes you immune to the Flare, so we can make more of the cure.

“Imagine that. We get to pick and choose who lives- who gets the cure. It’s as it should be.” His eyes glint sinisterly.

Thomas looks for an escape route. He can’t find one. “Theresa, please,” The brunette says when he hears the girl walk over to him. Theresa stands over him with a syringe and a blood collecting bag. “Why are you doing this?”

She looks at him like it's the most painful thing in the world. “I’m sorry, Tom. It’s...the right thing to do,” she sighs.

Thomas is grasping at straws- he’s running out of options. “Please, please. Just- what about Newt? Just save him and, and you can have whatever you want from me, promise.”

At that moment, the building shakes. Two more bombs hit WCKD headquarters and Thomas can hear the rubble breaking off and crashing around them. An overhead light swings and an alarm is set off.

“We have to hurry,” Janson cuts in. “And besides, your crank is too far gone. It’s a waste. Newt would never be important enough for the cure.”

Thomas grits his teeth at both the man’s words and the needle being stuck into the crook of his arm. Theresa tapes it down as his blood is slowly drawn.

“Trust me,” she says, “I’m doing the right thing.” She leans down to kiss Thomas’s forehead.

When she stands back up, she winks at him. Thomas can only stare back bafflingly. 

In a series of quick movements, Theresa reaches at the lab table for a large glass beaker, and turns to strike it hard at Janson’s head. Glass shatters and the man cries as he goes down, silent when he hits the floor. The sympathetic look on Theresa’s face is wiped off and replaced with one of hard determination. Thomas’s heart soars.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” she says as she hurries to take his needle out and work on the leather cuff binding his arm. “I didn’t know he was still in the building, I had to improvise. I swear-”

“Theresa, Theresa,” Thomas cuts her off. “Do you have the serum for Newt? Is that...is it real?”

Her eyes twinkle and a grin stretches her features. “Yeah, yeah it’s real. It’s all thanks to you, Tom.”

“Thank me later, and give Newt the cure for God’s sake, before this building collapses.”

She nods, leaving Thomas to undo his other bind, as she fetches a small vial filled with blue liquid and a syringe. It must have been the one Janson had been planning for himself, Thomas suspects. She dashes over to Newt’s still body. Black veins and rotted skin taint his once smooth complexion. Theresa wastes no time in examining her old friend, however, just prays that this works and plunges the needle deep under Newt’s skin. His body jerks in reflex, but he does not wake.

Thomas finally gets the binding completely off, and hops off the table.

“Untie Newt, and let’s go,” he commands, “we gotta get out of here.”

“I hope you got a damn good plan, Thomas,” she mutters, but complies and quickly undoes the binds locking Newt to the table. Thomas rushes over and together they support the blonde, one arm around each of their shoulders as they stumble towards the glass exit doors.

There is rustling behind them.

Thomas glances over his shoulder. Janson is half kneeling, half up, using the metal bench as support, but his shaky arm lifts to point a gun at them.

“Theresa, watch out!”

The first bullet whizzes past Theresa’s head, the next bouncing off another lab table near them. Thomas pushes them forward until they reach the glass doors, which he kicks open. Three more rounds are shot off before they run out of reach. Out in the hallway, chaos ensues. A fire has started somewhere in the building and flames lick at them as they stumble towards the emergency stairs.

“These only lead up,” Theresa says, concern evident in her voice.

“I guess up is the way we’re going, then,” he huffs.

It would be hard enough going up the stairs when the walls around them didn’t threaten to collapse, but it takes Thomas and Theresa twice as long to ascend while carrying a lifeless Newt. No, not lifeless, Thomas reprimands himself. He’s just knocked out. He’s sleeping. Thomas’s face scrunches up in pain as he tries to keep it together.

They make it up to the top and open the door. An inferno welcomes them. Thomas’s heart sinks deep into his stomach as they step into the night. More heat, fire, rubble. The ground they stand on quakes. Oh, it hurts. God, it hurts.

Why does it hurt so much?

Theresa gasps next to him. “Tom...your stomach.”

Thomas feels down to the source of scorching pain. He peels up his shirt to reveal a bleeding, gaping bullet wound. His world swims, and he doesn’t think he can hold himself up anymore. Thomas collapses from shock and utter exhaustion. Theresa screams his name, but he hears it distantly, as if through a wall of water.

His heartbeat thrums in his head. Maybe that’s the sound of the fire? Or perhaps the war down below. Oh everything burns. He just wanted to save his friend, and now they’re all going to die.

Shit.

Theresa is on the verge of tears as she sets Newt down and then settles in behind Thomas. She gently lifts his head up onto her lap and presses both of her hands onto his bullet wound. It stings, but he can’t find the air to say so.

“Keep pressure on it,” she’s mumbling, “make sure to stop the blood flow. The blood loss will kill you, Tom, you can’t die from blood loss or I swear to God…”

 

“Theresa,” Thomas gasps.

“What is it?”

“Why...did you ask me to come back? To WCKD? You...already had the serum. You didn’t need me for any more blood...You could’ve reproduced it eventually...so why?” Thomas is gasping between every other word.

Theresa laughs softly until the tears in her eyes leak over and fall down her cheeks. She gives up on his bleeding, takes to stroking his cheeks gently. Thomas can feel the warmth of his own blood on his face.

“I wanted to regain your trust. I couldn’t bear with knowing you hated me, Tom. I just couldn’t. I thought, if I cured Newt for you, maybe we could go back to what we once were. I needed to do this for you, Tom.”

Thomas lets the words settle over them. The crackle of the fires like drums in his ears.

“I forgive you,” he eventually says, because he’s dying, and it’s what Theresa needs to hear.

Theresa doesn’t reply, but she does cry harder. Thomas’s head shakes from the force of it. He closes his eyes and searches with his hand until he finds the top of Newt’s head just a foot away. He strokes the top of it and closes his eyes. He asks Newt if he’ll forgive him one day, too, and resigns himself to his fate.

All this. The maze. The Scorch. Everybody he’s left behind. All for nothing, because he’s going to die on this roof. Thomas is so filled with a white hot rage and desperation that he wants to scream.

But, he doesn’t get the chance to, because a loud, thundering mechanical whirr drowns out any noise he could’ve made. Thomas and Theresa both whip around to see what it is- the Berg.

Maybe it will all be worth it.

“Get up!” Theresa’s screaming, “Come on, we can go! We can make it!’

She hoists him to his feet, and they lean down to drag Newt up with them, too. The Berg is lowering, but oddly. Jorge can’t bring the ship any closer unless he wants to risk crashing into the building and taking everybody down with it. They stagger closer to the edge.

The bottom of the Berg is opening, and there’s his friends. Brenda, Vince, Minho, Frypan, and Gally are all screaming at them to Run, run! They do.

“You’ve gotta jump!” Gally yells over the roar of the engines. “It’s the only way!”

Thomas and Theresa share a look. Newt twitches unconsciously between them.

“If we drop him,” Thomas says seriously to Theresa, “I’m going to jump straight off this building.”

Theresa’s features are schooled. “Then we won’t drop him, easy.”

Minho seems to understand what their idea is, and he yells through the ship for Jorge to get closer. The Berg wavers around before it’s just in reach. Thomas steadies himself, ignoring the burning in his torso.

Three.

Two.

One.

Together, Thomas and Theresa swing back and launch Newt. He’s in the air, in the space between the building and the Berg and Thomas holds his breath until his blonde friend lands safely in the arms onboard. A cheerful laugh bubbles out of his lips.

“You next!” Theresa’s yelling at him.

“What? No! You go.”

“I’m not the one with a bullet in my body, you complete moron! Now jump before I push you off!”

Thomas pauses, leans forward and places a chaste kiss on the top of her head before leaning back and running towards the edge. He jumps at the last second and right into Vince’s arms. He’s gasping, adrenaline pumping times ten through his veins. He rolls over onto the cold, metal ground next to Newt.

Somebody is just yelling at Theresa to jump as well- when a loud rumbling is heard. They all look over, Thomas swears time slows, as they witness the large skyscraper adjacent WCKD begin to collapse, falling on its side.

Oh.

Oh please, God, no.

Hushed prayers can’t stop the laws of gravity. Somebody’s screaming, It might be Thomas, it’s probably all of them.

The entire side of the building lands with a sharp crash onto the top of WCKD. The roof cracks, then gives away under its own weight.

Theresa falls right into the inferno abyss below.

“We have to go, we got to leave!” Jorge is yelling. They scramble away from the closing Berg door. Minho has to physically drag Thomas away before he falls out.

Thomas feels the rocking of the ship changing course, flying away from the city made into ashes. He thinks he might throw up. At least the cool metal of the Berg’s floor soothes his burning skin.

Brenda pops into his window of view, and then Vince. “He’s bleeding,” she says, “he got shot!”

“Damnit, damnit!”

“What are we gonna do?”

“You guys!”

Thomas can’t bear to turn his head but he can hear the collective gasp of the ships passengers.

“It’s Newt,” Minho says breathily, “Oh my God, look at Newt.”

That is the last thing Thomas remembers before he passes out cold on the Berg’s floor.

He hopes he isn’t dead.


	2. hide & seek - amber run

Thomas is gently woken into consciousness by a dull light and the distant sounds of bright chatter. He lays stock still, and even begins to recognize the soft repetitive crashing as waves of an ocean. He closes his eyes shut, and takes in one long, shuddering breath. It smells like salt and fresh air. He hesitantly pushes himself off the cot he’s lying on.

A quick examination leads Thomas to believe he’s in a small, wooden hut. A white curtain in the doorway flaps with the breeze, letting in sunlight. He curls his toes on the ground, and cool sand filters between his feet. He almost doesn’t feel the wound in his stomach, mind for some uncomfortable stretching as he stands up on weak legs. He limps towards the doorway, his head fuzzy.

It’s much brighter when he steps outside, and Thomas gasps softly to himself. A horizon that stretches forever in both directions; vibrant, rolling green mountains on his right, and a saturated blue ocean on his left. The sun hits the beach just right and the sand and waves glisten like diamonds. Sudden distant laughter catches his attention.

From down the beach, Thomas spies dozens of more huts just like the one behind him. People litter the sand, at least a hundred of them.

People. 

Despite unused muscles that scream at him to slow down, Thomas stumbles over as fast as he can towards the large gathering. He’s running on fumes, the despairing need to find his friends, and little else. Every step burns deep within him.

Vince spots him first. He glances up from his spot besides Minho and sees Thomas, looking like he just came from Hell and back (he supposes he did, really), tripping on the sand as he tries to run to them. Vince slaps Minho on the back, who’s eyes immediately snap up. He’s up before Vince can say anything else.

Brenda and Gally, along with Frypan, notice the commotion- Thomas, with sickly pale skin and his dark hair matted down to his head, calling for them. He kicks up sand in his wake. Brenda can’t help her lips twitching into a smile at the sight of him. She follows Minho.

Thomas falters to a stop a few feet before his friends. He can’t keep his eyes off them, raking them up and down to make sure they’re really there- that this isn’t another one of WCKD’s games. He doesn’t know what’d he do if that were the case. Thomas doesn’t know what to say, where to begin. His eyes burn and he rapidly blinks away tears.

Minho breaks the silence, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome to Paradise, Thomas.”

A broken laugh spills out of Thomas’s mouth.

He steps forward just as Minho- Minho, the one who’s been by his side through everything, his best friend- does. Thomas throws his heavy arms around the boy and holds him close, Minho chuckling in his ear as he does the same. It feels unbelievably good to have him safe and next to him again. Thomas is at a loss for words and all he can do is squeeze his friend tight.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting like, a bro moment or something, but I’d like to see Thomas, too.”

Thomas stumbles out of Minho’s loosening grip to meet Brenda’s grinning face, looking up at him. She punches him lightly in the shoulder.

“Good to have you back, you bumbling idiot.”

Thomas smiles at her, pulling her in for another embrace. She wraps her thin arms around his waist and the boy settles his chin atop her head. He’s missed her, too.

“Good to be back,” he chokes out, throat dry from weeks of silence. He looks up to meet the bright gazes of his friends around him. “It’s great to see you, all of you.”

“Wish I could say the same, Greenie,” Gally pipes from the side, “but you look like shit.”

Thomas snorts, stepping out of Brenda’s grasp to meet Gally’s rough side hug. “You’re one to talk, you shank,” the boy says lightly. Gally grinds his knuckles into his mess of curls as revenge, and Frypan laughs from somewhere.

While Thomas still feels a small flicker of anger at Gally for killing Chuck, a larger part of him understands he wasn’t in control of his actions. The Griever’s sting had messed with him. Gally had even still gone on to help them. Nobody would be here, standing on a beautiful, safe beach without his assistance. Gratitude swarms in Thomas’s gut, and the steady hand on his shoulder tells him he doesn’t need to voice it aloud- Gally already knows.

Thomas guesses he isn’t such a huge dick, after all.

“You had us scared for a while, there, Thomas,” Vince says, arms crossed. “Thought we might lose you.”

“We did, for a second,” Brenda reminds him. She glances at Thomas. “You passed out just after we pulled you onto the Berg. Went into shock after seeing....well, we just thought you might not come out of it.”

Thomas’s heart runs cold. Memories of watching Theresa fall into the burning building flood his mind. She could’ve jumped. She could’ve made it.

Newt could’ve, too, if only Thomas was a little faster. His breathing quickens when he remembers the panicked yells of his friends on the Berg once they saw Newt; the state he was in.

If only Thomas carried the blonde to WCKD a little sooner.

He can feel himself panicking.

Minho picks up on Thomas’s sudden tension, and goes to rub comforting circles against his friend’s arm. “Listen, Thomas,” he hesitantly begins, glancing over the brunette’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry about Theresa, I am. But you need to know, her serum-”

Thomas violently flinches away. “Please stop, I...I already know. I suspected as much.”

“No, Thomas, you stubborn idiot, let me finish-”

“Please don’t say it out loud,” Thomas whispers to his friend. Minho balks at the glassy look in the brunette’s eyes. “I don’t want to hear it said out loud.”

Somebody snorts. “You should really stop interrupting people, you bloody shank.”

Thomas’s breath hitches in his chest.

He can see his friend’s faces in front of him, varying levels of amusement evident in their expressions, as they glance between himself and at something just behind Thomas.

Thomas’s feet seem glued to the ground, his muscles clenching up. He wants to believe, but there’s no way. He heard them talking on the Berg, Janson too- He was too far gone, it was too late-

“...Tommy?” A delicate hand plants itself on his back.

Thomas whips around, catching the wrist on his body before it disappears and he loses him again- he can’t lose him again.

Newt squawks at the sudden motion, but meet’s Thomas’s fervent gaze. His warm, honey eyes are clear, no sign of fever-induced haze in them like the last time.

Newt’s entire face splits into a grin. “Hi, Tommy.”

It’s Newt.

It takes Thomas’s muddled brain all of three seconds of stunned silence before he reacts, throwing himself at the blonde. Newt catches him, but they both land a foot away in the soft sand, Newt grunting as the brunette lands on top of him. Thomas vaguely registers their friends yelling at him to be careful, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the boy beneath him. Newt’s alive. Newt’s okay. Thomas rests his head on top of the blonde’s chest to hear his heartbeat, but Newt laughs so hard it shakes him. The brunette sits up, still refusing to leave his friend, and watches his face. The blonde’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, looking up at Thomas like he’s the biggest idiot in the entire world, but he’s glad to see him nonetheless.

The unshed tears in Thomas’s eyes that had threatened to spill the entire morning finally do when he sees there are no blackened veins on Newt’s shining face. No fever. No uncontrollable body jerks. He’s cured.

“I-I thought you turned, Newt,” Thomas finally stutters out, fingers dancing along Newt’s face just to double check that no remnants of the Flare remain. A tear rolls down and onto Newt’s cheek, but he doesn’t make any movement to wipe it away, or shove Tommy off. “I thought you were too far gone and we didn’t get you the serum in time. I thought it wouldn’t work.”

Newt opens his mouth to answer, but Minho interrupts by walking over and kicking more sand on them. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, shuck-face!” he reprimands, but he’s smiling all the same.

Newt coughs up sand and Thomas finally rolls off the boy, thoughts catching up with him and realizing he just more or less squished the guy. He sits up and helps Newt do so as well, brushing sand off him.

“I’m fine, Tommy, what are you, my mother?” Newt laughs, swatting at Thomas’s hand. Minho snorts and settles in next to them- the three best friends reunited, sitting knee to knee.

“What I started to say, Thomas, was that Theresa’s cure did work,” Minho explains. “Newt was pretty far gone when you brought him, but it worked. I don’t know what that girl did, but she’s a shuckin’ genius. He was already looking better before we even got on the boat.”

Thomas blinks bewilderingly. Then, “m-my blood. She said it was something about my blood. Thats,” he glances back at Newt, who’s watching him with an analytical look. “That’s why I went back. You heard it too, right? In the city?”

“Yeah, it was broadcast everywhere. We all heard it- knew you’d go back there. That’s why Jorge brought the Berg to WCKD.”

Newt hums, worrying his bottom lip. “I can’t remember any of that. I- I barely remember anything after giving you my necklace, Tommy.” Newt suddenly looks up, eyes burning. “When did I turn? What did I do?”

Thomas freezes. “Newt…” he says.

The blonde leans forward desperately, placing a large hand on Thomas’s leg. He can feel the heat radiating even through his pants. “Please, Tommy. I need to know.”

The brunette flinches at the words, all too familiar ones ringing in his head like a siren. He swallows down the lump in his throat. Minho looks between them curiously.

“After I sent Gally and Minho ahead, I had to carry you across town,” Thomas starts, “you weren’t walking on your own- barely standing. We got to an empty street and- and I couldn’t do it anymore. We both fell, and that’s when Theresa started talking over a broadcast. She said she had a cure, that we could save you. I turned my back on you for one second to listen, I swear, and when I turned around-” Thomas cuts himself off.

“Yes, Tommy?” Newt pushes, though he himself is looking a little pale.

“...When I turned around, you were standing up. I thought you were okay but, your eyes were cloudy, and the veins had overtaken your face- you were so angry at me. Uh...you attacked and we rolled around a bit and…” Thomas can’t say it. Not after what Newt had confessed to attempting in the maze. He couldn’t tell his friend that he had tried to kill himself again, let alone ask Thomas to. He clears his throat, “...and you were out of control, so I knocked your head against the asphalt until you knocked out, and carried you to WICKED.” He takes a deep breath. I’m so, sorry Newt.”

Minho let out a shuddering exhale, but Newt keeps his gaze on the ground and Thomas’s on him. When the blonde finally looks up, his eyes were wet, but he was smiling.

“Hm. Was wondering why I woke up with a bitch of a headache,” he says. A surprised laugh bubbles out of Thomas and Minho both.

“I hate you, Newt,” Minho says, gathering the blonde in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re alive. You too, Thomas, come here.”

They embrace in the middle of the sand. The waves crash somewhere behind them and the smell of dinner wafts in the air along with the sound of others talking. Thomas never wants to leave this moment.

Eventually though, they have to. Gally breaks it by calling Minho away, asking for ‘some help around here once in awhile, you no good useless-’ The asian flips the boy off, then sighs, patting both his friends on the back heartily.

“I guess I really should get going. You two catch up, I’ll find you guys for dinner.” He tousles both their hair, ignoring Thomas’s indignant squawk. 

The duo watch their friend jog away in a companionable silence. Thomas would be perfectly content to sit here with his friend, but his muscles also itch to explore this perfect haven, especially after weeks of being bedridden.

“Wanna’ take a walk?” he asks.

Newt looks over his shoulder to beam at Thomas. “Thought you’d never asks. Let’s go down to the shore- I’ve never been in the ocean before.”

“Great,” Thomas says as Newt pushes himself to a stand. “Though I’m gonna’ need some help here, buddy. I think I tore a stitch when we fell.”

The blond scoffs in disbelief, but leans down to wrap the other boy’s arm around his shoulders. “That’s what you get for tackling me, Tommy. Bloody knocked the wind out of...Wait, what have you got stitches for?”

Thomas stands with a groan, wincing at the pain in his abdomen. He looks anywhere but Newt as he answers, “Uh, I might’ve gotten shot?”

Newt levels his cold eyes on the brunette. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think I just did.”

Newt pretends to drop Thomas, who yelps. The blonde bursts out laughing, and Thomas can’t even fake a glare for his friend, his face breaks out into a grin as he watches the blonde.

“Don’t be rude, Newt.”

“Don’t be an idiot, then,” the boy retaliates.

Thomas shakes his head, smiling all the while. He leans heavily into Newt’s side, who takes the weight easily as they begin to walk down to the crashing waves.

If Thomas was being honest, he could probably walk on his own. He was just a little sore, is all. But having Newt by his side, with a long arm slanking around his waist, was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Having Newt here in Paradise at all was a blessing.

For a moment, Thomas forgets what it cost to get here. He just appreciates life in the moment.

+

Dinner passes by in a flash. Minho did keep his promise and found Thomas and Newt, who had wandered over to the far side of the beach by the time dinner rolled around.

Everyone sat in a large circle around the bonfire, laughing and eating together. Frypan’s food was delicious as always, and Thomas hadn’t even realized how hungry he had been until he scarfed down his helping in less than ten minutes. Gally and Brenda laughed at him when he choked, and Newt had rolled his eyes fondly but gave him a glass of water.

It was the most at home Thomas could remember feeling in a long time; maybe ever.

Vince gave a heartfelt speech at the end, and people took turns going up to the large rock pillar and carving names of their lost friends, family, anybody who never made it to Paradise.

Thomas sits by the fire after dinner, staring at the pillar. He’s thankful when Minho notices, and goes to carve the names he’s not ready to do himself.

A thought strikes Thomas upside the head as he watches Minho work. They were so close to having to write Newt’s name on the rock, too.

His blood runs cold at the thought.

What if...What if Thomas hadn’t been able to knock the gun out of Newt’s hold? What if Newt had gained the advantage in their fight and killed Thomas, then himself? What if Thomas hit Newt’s skull against the ground too hard..?

His body shakes, but there is no bite in the breeze.

“You cold, Tommy?”

He glances up. Newt stands over him with his arms casually crossed. Thomas rubs the goosebumps off of his.

“Just tired, I think,” he mumbles. “Long day.”

“Understandable. Go to bed, Thomas,” Newt says kindly.

The brunette nods, but makes no movement to leave. Newt huffs out a breath of amusement, and offers down his hand. Thomas takes it.

“Easy, there,” Newt eyes the way Thomas’s body sways. “You sure you’re fine?”

“No.”

The blonde’s brows knit, and Tommy feels a stab of guilt for worrying him. The setting sun casts dim, blue shadows on the boy’s face.

“Should I take you to a medjack?”

Thomas shakes his head. His chest hurts, but he doesn’t think a medjack could help with that.

Newt’s eyes clear with understanding. He’s so good at that- understanding Thomas without the boy even saying a word. God, has Newt always been such a good person?

‘Yes’, Thomas’s inner monologue supplies.

“Come on, let’s go to your hut. Some shut eye ought to do you good.” Newt says. He doesn’t trust that Thomas will remain upright if he leaves him to his own devices, so he continues to hold the boy’s hand, slightly dragging him behind.

He wonders if he was like this when he was sick in the city- he was probably worse.

Thomas stops them when they walk far enough down the beach, just in front of a small wooden shack. The white curtain that serves as his door flaps in the breeze, but it’s not cold. The boy suspects it never will be here. Thomas still doesn’t want to go in.

“Can you sit with me?” he asks quietly. Newt stares. “Just...for one second, please.”

The blonde clears his throat. “Of course, Tommy.”

They sink to the ground in front of the hut, backs to the wood and staring at the ocean in front of them. It’s dark out, no light except for what’s left of the sun peeking over the sea and the hot coals of the once lit bonfire, several meters away. The crashing of the ocean soothes Thomas’s pounding headache. He closes his eyes and let’s his head droop onto taller boy’s shoulder, sighing shakily.

“Tommy, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Thomas tilts his head up just an inch, just so he can meet Newt’s worried gaze. His fluffy hair has grown out some, and the brunette brings a hand up to brush it out of his friend’s eyes. There’s a jagged scar on Newt’s forehead.

“I’m sorry about your head,” Thomas says. He traces the scar with his thumb, but unlike last time, no blood smears. Newt smiles confusedly down at him.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Tommy,” he says, “It was self-defense. I’m actually glad you knocked me out, I probably wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

The reminder stings. “It was terrible, Newt,” Thomas admits. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. It was pure luck I could get on top of you long enough to do it.

“Your head made the most awful sound. It was like a wet crunch. I thought I smashed your skull. I could feel the impact of concrete up through my arm hours after it happened.” He looks down at the adam’s apple in Newt’s throat. “I thought I killed you.”

The apple bobs as the blonde swallows. “But you didn’t, Tommy. You didn’t.”

He sighs. “But what if I did-”

“Thomas.”

The boy’s eyes snap up at the harsh tone. Newt squeezes the hand still in his. “Stop talking like that. You did everything in your power to save us, all of us, and look where we are. We’re in Paradise because of you, Tommy. I knew I’d follow you to the end of the Earth if that’s where you took us, and you led us down the right path. Leave the past in the past, alright? We’re in Paradise. We made it.You saved me.”

Thomas tries to school his expression; tries not to let his face scrunch in pain. He knows he's failing, because Newt smiles down sympathetically at him. 

Thomas takes a deep breath. “I know you said I have no reason to apologize, but...when I was up on WCKD’s rooftop, with you and Theresa, and I thought I was going to die, I asked you to forgive me- for everything. It was my last thought. Do you forgive me, Newt?”

Newt doesn’t answer. Thomas lets his eyes slip close and is ready to accept the silence, when Newt turns to wrap his arms around the boy. Thomas instantly scrambles to find purchase on the blonde, fingers digging in the other’s back as he buries his face in Newt’s ratty shirt. They’re holding on to each other too tight, Thomas can barely breathe, but he doesn’t let go.

“I forgive you, Tommy,” Newt says against his ear. “I’ll always forgive you.”

Thomas’s heart aches.


	3. homesick - catfish and the bottlemen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the support on this, it's what's motivating me to write. You're all sweet and lovely and deserve some happy newtmas so I will deliever xx
> 
> warning:: minor spoilers for The Fever Code

It’s late in the morning, and everyone but one stubborn brunette has showed up to breakfast. Brenda sighs, and decides to make the trek to Thomas’s hut, complaining about how lazy he is the whole way there. She reaches the front of the shed when she falters in her steps- the sounds of ragged, heavy panting drift out of the little shack.

What the hell.

Brenda braces herself, and shoves aside the curtain.

To her relief, it’s only Thomas; who lay asleep and writhing in his hammock- shirt stuck to his body with night sweats. He groans softly, and his brows knit in pain. He mumbles something and Brenda strains to listen, stepping across the threshold silently.

“..’m sorry…so sorry…”

“Thomas?” she reaches his bedside, brushing hair off his forehead. He flinches at the touch unconsciously.

“..don’t...p-please..” he slurs.

“Thomas!” A harsh whisper this time. Brenda gently shakes the brunette’s shoulder.

“Please..’lease forgive me..m’ so-”

Thomas chest begins heaving, his face scrunches in terror and he starts shaking. Brenda panics, slaps him across the cheek.

The boy wakes with a shout, practically jumping out of his skin. Brenda yelps and movesout of the way in time before Thomas can headbutt her. He sits up, gasping for air like he just ran a mile.

“Thomas? Hey? You with me?” Brenda snaps her fingers in front of the boy’s face, his glassy eyes darting around before finally settling on her. She smiles at him, but can’t keep the worried look out of her expression.

“Brenda?” he croaks. “What...what are you doing here? What time is it?”

Brenda rolls her eyes, standing straight up. “It’s breakfast time- started a few minutes ago. You never sleep in, what’s wrong?”

Thomas brushes off her concern, sending her a quick reassuring look. “It’s nothing, sorry...bad dream.” He looks at the floor, feeling around until his fingers brush cloth. He picks up the article of clothing and begins to peel his soaking night shirt off. Brenda determinedly keeps her eyes on one of the moles on Thomas’s cheek. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think everything has just happened so soon, you know? My mind thinks we’re still in the city.”

The girl hums in response, biting the inside of her cheek.

The brunette stands, stretching in his new dry shirt. “Thanks for checking up on me, Brenda. Uh..breakfast?” he smiles down at her, “I’m starving.”

She snorts. They exit his little hut and casually stroll down the sand. “That’s your own fault- should’ve woken up on time...Greenie.”

“Hey I said I was- wait, where’d you pick that up from?” He whips around on her mid-step.

Brenda grins, pushing him along by the small of his back. “Heard Gally say it. Seemed to grind your gears enough that I wanted to test it out.”

“It’s not that! It’s just...I wasn’t even the Greenie... I don’t know why you people like to torment me,” he grumbles. His friend laughs.

They join the others and see that the survivors have situated around the unlit bonfire in a semi circle, plates filled with food as they chatter and laugh. The sun shines down on them from a vibrant blue sky, but the ocean breeze keeps the air pleasantly cool. Thomas psychically feels the tension in his body drain out at such a serene sight.

“Thomas! Brenda! Over here,” Minho calls from the far end. The brunette spots him and waves. He dishes up with Brenda and they walk over to their friends, kicking up sand as they go.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty finally woke up,” Gally teases. Thomas sends him a pleasant finger and plants himself in the empty space between Newt and Minho.

“Bloody hell, Tommy!” Newt suddenly laughs, leaning away dramatically. “What sewer did you crawl out from?” 

Thomas scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Ha, ha. Very funny- up yours, Newt,” he says, and shoves the blonde with his foot for good measure. Newt doesn’t stop laughing even as he’s pushed into the sand.

Minho leans around the brunette. “Hey, leave Thomas alone. He’s just a very sweaty guy.”

“Yeah that’s- wait, what?”

Brenda snorts so hard she ends up choking on a piece of her food, which sends the others around them into a fit of hysterics.

“Children, settle down,” Jorge says from a couple paces away, but he’s grinning at their antics as well.

Their small group of survivors quiet up, secret smiles sent at each other. The rest of breakfast passes by with pleasant small talk. Thomas eats whatever Frypan and the other cooks have made that morning- he’s just so grateful to have food readily available at all he doesn’t even mind the slight grainy texture of the dish. He suspects sand.

“Hey, Newt, psst!” Minho subtly leans over Thomas to whisper at his friend, who glances up at the boy from his plate. “Don’t look now, but I think the blondie from Group B is giving you heart eyes.”

Both Newt and Thomas completely disregard the asian’s instructions and their heads whip up.

“What the hell did I just say?!” Minho hushed in a scandalized tone, but they ignore him again.

True to his word, Sonya, the second in command of the Group B maze, is staring. She’s sitting against a log directly across the empty pit, and jumps when she suddenly catches the attention of the three boys.

Her eyes never leave Newt’s, however. She lifts a small hand and waves it, her smile strangely melancholic.

Newt tilts his head in confusion, but waves back. Sonya looks away after a moment's silence and turns back to her conversation with Harriet.

Minho whistles. “Damn, can you believe it, Thomas?” he nudges the brunette next to him, knocking said boy out of his reverie. “Newt’s back on his feet for what, a few days, and he’s already caught himself an admirer.” Minho chuckles.

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “Really...something.”

Newt scoffs. “You’re both idiots. The poor girl was probably just lost in thought.”

“Yeah, about your beautiful, enticing features, Newt.”

“You shut your mouth before I do it for you, Minho.”

“I’d like to see you try, you scrawny shank.”

“That does it you bloody bag of-” Newt crawls over Thomas’s legs and launches himself at the noirette. Minho screams, and Thomas quickly rolls out of the way to avoid their wrestling match, as do the others who are unfortunate enough to be in close vicinity.

He’s laughing at his two friends, warmth blossoming in his chest at seeing them act so childish and their age for once, but he can’t quite get the image of Sonya looking at Newt like he’s some lost treasure she’s just once more found out of his head. It’s an itch he can’t scratch at the back of his mind for the rest of the morning.

+

“I hope you’re happy, shuckface.”

“You know what?” Minho says, knee deep in ocean water as he wrings a newly washed shirt out. The bright blue waves sway against his legs. “I am, because I rightfully put you in your place.”

“Rightfully put sand in all my places, that’s for damn sure,” Newt grumbles. The boy reaches down to cup some water and pour it over his blonde hair.

Thomas observes their bickering from the dry haven of the warm sand. He shields his eyes with a hand as he calls out to them. “Guys? Is it really the best idea to be bathing in salt water? Aren’t you just going to get...I dont know, more sand everywhere?”

“Hey, if you’re not throwing out any other suggestions Thomas, then keep quiet!” Minho points back at him accusingly. Thomas raises his hands in surrender.

Newt turns around to face the boy lounging on the sand. His wet bangs stick to his face and trickle water down to wet his shirt. “Actually…” he starts dragging his way back to shore, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Newt, keep away from me. You look like a drowned cat,” Thomas warns. Newt reaches the boy, ignoring his yelp as he goes to grab the other’s hands with his wet ones.

“Get up, bugger. You still smell terrible- have a bath.”

“I’m just going to smell salty, Newt! Plus it’s cold,” Thomas protests, digging his heels half-heartedly in the sand beneath them. It doesn’t hold, and Newt continues to drag the other boy along, grinning.

“Minho, help!” Newt calls.

Minho spots them and nearly doubles over in laughter. He jogs through the water to reach the boys, and to both their surprises, he scoops Thomas up and throws him over his shoulder.

“Oh, this is the best thing thing I’ve ever seen,” an accented voice pipes up, following them to the water. Thomas thrashes, but he can’t help the bubbling laughter that spills from his mouth.

“Minho, come on, you’re supposed to be on my side,” the brunette chokes out.

“Sorry buddy, but you really do stink.” 

With his only warning being a flash of a smile and teeth, Minho promptly flings Thomas off of his shoulder. Thomas’s scream is cut off as he splashes into the cold water, salt invading his senses. Some friends, he sarcastically thinks- he can hear their hysterics even through the water surrounding him.

Thomas breaks the surface and gasps desperately for breath. His clothes cling to him and the biting cold soaks through to his bones. Thomas treads water and glares at the two boys in front of him through the hair plastered on his forehead.

In the water a few feet away, Newt and Minho are clinging to each other to keep from falling, their balance wavering due to the peals of giggles that rock through them. Thomas struggles to keep the murderous expression on his face, but the twitch at the corner of his lip gives him away.

“You guys are jerks,” Thomas says once their laughter at his expense dies down, “what if I didn’t know how to swim?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “It was literally your idea to jump out from a twenty story high building and into a fountain- I think we assumed you’d be fine.”

Touché.

Newt paddles up next to Thomas, and rubs a hand through his wet iihair. “Who’s looking like a soaked cat now, Tommy?”

That does it. Thomas’s face breaks into a grin and he shoves as much sea water as he can on the blonde. Newt yelps, and the force of the wave drags him under. He resurfaces completely soaked. Minho’s eyes shine with mirth as he watches them.

 

Newt looks less amused. “I really only needed to wash my hair, but thank you, Tommy.”

“Always looking out for a friend.”

Minho clears his throat. “Alright, if you children are done messing around, can we go to the stream and actually wash up?”

Newt looks at the asian with a belittling expression. “It was your grand idea to bathe in the ocean in the first place, you twat. There’s a stream?”

Minho flaps his hand dismissively. “I stand by my decision- it got Thomas in, right? Anyways, the stream’s just a few minutes walk behind the camp grounds.”

Thomas stands and shakes the water droplets out of his hair. “Yeah, we should go. I think Vince is glaring at us for making a scene, anyways.” He gestures towards land where the man was, shaking his head disapprovingly at them. Newt throws his head back and laughs and Thomas has a brief moment of appreciation for how alive and happy the boy is. They wade back to shore.

“The sand is sticking worse now,” Newt complains.

“I told you that would happen.”

An exasperated sigh. “Tommy, if you think I won’t shovel a handful of sand into your shirt to teach you a lesson then you have definitely got another-”

“Newt..?”

The blonde releases his hold on the giggling brunette and lets the sand in his palm slip through his fingers. All three of them stop, and turn around to look at Sonya, who stands awkwardly a few paces away.

“Um,” she starts again, and begins anxiously pulling at her braid. Newt’s eyes follow the action. “Can I talk to you? Privately for just a moment? Or are you…” she glances at the mussed up appearance of Minho and Thomas, “...busy.”

“Well-”

“He’s not,” Minho cuts in. “Please, take him. He’s caused enough trouble.” To accentuate his point, he gives Newt a gentle nudge towards Sonya.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she promises.

Minho smiles at her. “Take all the time you want, Thomas and I will just be cleaning up. Right, Thomas?”

The brunette glances between the three of them: Sonya’s nervous, darting eyes, Newt’s own worried expression, and Minho jerking his head as a signal for them to leave the two alone.

“R-right,” Thomas coughs out. “Yeah, uh, we’ll just...what Minho said.”

He casts one last fleeting look towards the confused blonde, then backwardly stumbles to catch up with Minho’s receding figure.

Once Thomas and Minho have jogged out of sight, Newt turns back to the blonde girl. “Right, uh...what can I help you with, Sonya?’’

She doesn’t answer for a moment. Her eyes scan over Newt’s face, like she’s trying to commit it to memory. She lets out a breath she wasn’t aware of holding. “Can we talk by the fire pit? I think we should sit down for this.”

He smiles at her confusedly. “Alright.”

They trek to the community area in silence. It’s mostly empty at this time of day- the survivors either in their huts or helping with their jobs. Newt suspects that’s why she chose this area. He’s mostly wary and apprehensive, and mentally scolds himself for immediately being so suspicious of her. Old habits die hard.

Sonya slumps against an oak log, and Newt sits beside her on the sand instead of on the wood. He waits patiently for her to collect her thoughts. He can wait.

Sonya doesn’t look up at him as she speaks. “I thought you seemed familiar a while back, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

He wasn't expecting that. “I beg your pardon?”

“When we met- I think it was merely a minute at best, back when our two groups first met, but something about you made my brain feel muddled, like I was digging up things I wasn’t supposed to up there.” She pauses, turns her attentions to the calm blue waves of the sea. Newt watches her. “...In the maze, too. I could never remember anything too specific- just brief glimpses of feelings and memories. I always thought they were dreams...” she trails off.

Newt clears his throat. “...Thought what were dreams, Sonya?” he attempts to regain her focus. The gears in her head seem to start up again.

“At first...it was the remembrance of a touch. Somebody always tugging on my braid.” She pulls her own at the mention, and Newt wonders if she’s aware of the action or not.

“Then, I remembered a name.”

“A name?” Newt instantly asks, “who’s?”

Sonya scuffs her feet into the ground. “Mine. At least, it felt like mine.” She looks into Newt’s honey brown eyes for the first time since they began talking. “Elizabeth.”

A migraine hits Newt right behind his eye. A popping, and there’s a black spot in his vision and a throbbing in his head. He pushes through it.

“Lizzy,” he whispers. Newt balks at his own words, the name familiar on his tongue the same way one always remembers the feel of home.

Sonya’s head shoots up. She frantically reaches over for one of the boy’s boney hands and squeezes it tight. Her grip is shakey. “Newt, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to listen, understand, and then take five deep breaths. Please don’t freak out- and please, please don’t run.”

Newt laughs hesitantly. “You’re scaring me a bit here, girl.”

“Please, do you promise?”

Newt blinks, startled. “I...yeah, of course. I promise.”

Sonya slowly leans forward and cups a hand around Newt’s ear.

 

+

 

Thomas jogs to Minho’s side, casting him a puzzled look. “What was that about, you think?”

Minho looks at him like he forgot the Earth revolved around the Sun. “Really, Thomas? Sonya is obviously interested in Newt.”

Thomas jerks his head back so fast his neck actually aches. “Sorry, what?”

“Are you blind? She’s been looking at him like that all day. She’s probably confessing her undying love for him right now.”

The brunette furrows his brows, casts his eyes down. “You shouldn’t say things like that if you’re not sure,” Thomas says. “This could really come back to bite you in the butt.”

Minho rolls his eyes and affectionately slugs the other’s shoulder. “Trust me, I’m right. Now quick, over here, we can spy on them from behind this.”

“Minho-” the boy ignores whatever protest Thomas was beginning to form and yanks his friend behind a random hut’s wall, effectively concealing them but also allowing for a perfect view to the fire pit. Thomas sees the two blonde’s, and the grip Sonya has on Newt’s hand. He swallows, turning back to Minho.

“It’s our duty as his best friends to set him up,” Minho mumbles, still peeking over the wall’s edge. “Newt deserves to be happy- more than anyone.”

Thomas bites his lip. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. I am a hundred percent for Newt’s happiness, you know that. But seriously, I thought Sonya was with that Aris guy or whatever. Don’t you remember-”

Minho gasps suddenly. “Thomas, look!”

Thomas leans over his friend to see what has him so riled up- and he gets an eyeful alright.

Sonya and Newt are inches apart. From their viewpoint, Thomas can see Sonya’s face clearly, but his friend has his back facing them. The girl leans over to whisper something in Newt’s ear, and Thomas strains to try and hear; they’re too quiet, however.

The brunette can hear Minho’s intake of breath behind him, ready to say something, when Newt’s body stills up. He stays like that for several moments, and both Thomas and Minho wait for something to happen in a tense silence.

The spell is broken when Newt unexpectedly turns and throws his arms around the girl. He pulls Sonya in devastatingly tight, and she trembles before burying her face in Newt’s soaked shirt. Newt holds Sonya so firmly to himself they seem to merge as one.

Thomas’s heart clenches at the sight.

“Wow,” Minho breathes out. Thomas is startled by the voice, and of the fact that he seemingly forgot about the other boy with him in that moment. “Guess I was right.”

Thomas forces himself to turn away. “Can we please go wash up now?” His voice is tight. Why?

“Yeah, we should,” Minho agrees, seemingly unaware in Thomas’s change, “kinda’ feels like we’re intruding on something personal now, you know?”

They tiptoe their way out of the campsite, Thomas following Minho’s lead on autopilot as his mind goes numb. Or more accurately, his senses are numb, while his brain races a mile a minute. He refuses to stay on any one dangerous thought for too long, afraid of where it might take him.

He feels...weird.

“Thomas?” The bruette snaps out of it as a hand is waves across his face. Minho gives him a curious expression. “Earth to Thomas? I said we’re here.”

“Oh, right…”

The stream is a small thing, soft trickling noises drifting to Thomas’s ears as he takes in the sight. It really isn’t very far from home. Crystal clear water runs through a channel that extends beyond view on either side. It’s far enough up from the beach that no grains of sand litter the ground, either- only bright green grass that tickles the undersides of Thomas’s bare feet. He curls his toes and digs up dirt.

Minho begins to strip as he talks. “Gally found this a couple days after we landed in Paradise. A couple of the older guys are working on a way to fix an irrigation system, instead of having to carry back buckets of water.”

Thomas sits on a boulder, staring into the stream. “I was kinda’ wondering where the the fresh water kept coming from, now that you mention it.”

Minho snorts, and kneels down besides the channel. He dips his shirt in and swirls it around. The liquid is cool to the touch.

The brunette watches him, head perches lazily in the palm of his hand. He found himself content to simply sit and watch Minho, hopefully dulling his mind with the quiet of the stream. Minho fixed himself up after a moment, and started feeling for the pockets on his pants. He froze.

“Hey, I got something in here.”

“If it’s not something to eat, I’m not interested,” Thomas replied, words muffled by the hand blocking his mouth. He watched with half-lidded eyes as the other stuck a palm in his pocket and fished out a chain necklace with a small bottle attached. That was…

Thomas was scrambling off his rock before he was even aware of what happened.

“W-where did you get that?” Thomas asked, a hysterical tinge lining his voice. Minho put his hands up in innocence and passed his friend the necklace. They both sunk down to their knees in the grass to observe the tiny vial in Thomas’s palm.

“I’ve been meaning to give it back to you. You were clutching it in your hand when we pulled you into the Berg back at WCKD. I’ve been holding onto it, since you were out for so long. I didn’t know if…”

Whatever Minho says after that is lost to Thomas. He’s back in the city, with the sounds of warfare suffocating the dusty air, and his dying friend propped against a marble column in front of him. He remembers the moment with perfect clarity, to be burned in his memories for as long as he live. The panic he felt when he realized Newt couldn’t go on anymore, the hopeless last option of sending Gally and Minho ahead, and the raw desperation in Newt’s clouded eyes as he begged Thomas to take the necklace. A bomb goes off in the distance. Gunfire to his left. He’s pulling Newt up with him, can feel the heat from a lick of flame burning his face-

“Thomas! Snap out of it!”

Thomas gasps, scuttling back on all fours. His chest is heaving and his eyes frantically dart around- the stream. That’s right. It’s just the stream in Paradise. Minho looks over him with an alarmed look, a steadying hand on his shoulder. The touch grounds him in reality, and Thomas clenches his eyes shut as he tries to regulate his breathing.

“Thomas,” Minho gently says, “you with me?”

Thomas swallows, his mouth dry. “I’m with you,” he says. “Sorry, man. I’m here.”

Minho sits back, but still looks him over like he’s afraid the boy might fall apart at any minute. He just might. “Where’d you go, Thomas? What happened?”

The brunette rubs his arms, willing the chill to go away. He clutches the necklace in his hand tighter. “It’s just...Newt gave me this necklace. Back in the city, after you and Gally went for help. He wanted me to have it, made me take it b-before…”

Understanding clears Minho’s eyes. He nods sympathetically. “Oh...man. I get it, it’s fine... You keep it, alright? You should be the one to return it to him, anyways.”

Thomas nods, forces a smile on his face. Minho gives him a real one and helps him up while Thomas safely tucks the pendant away in his own pocket.

“Let’s go back, alright?” Minho says.

“But I still haven’t washed my clothes.”

“Not like it would’ve helped with your smell, anyways. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Minho.” He means it.

+

Thomas doesn’t see Newt or Minho again until later that night.

As soon as him and the other boy returned to the camp, Thomas was frisked away by Jorge for a few hours to help with repairing a roof. He sweated for hours in the mid-day sun, but it was honest work and a distraction and he appreciated it.

The day cooled, and afternoon began to shift to evening. Thomas had hoped to sneak off to the stream again and properly wash the grime off his skin, but he was intercepted by Frypan and dragged into the kitchen. Fry was good company and the rest of the cooks seemed like nice guys, so it wasn’t all bad. Thomas still cut the vegetables unevenly and almost knocked over a pot of food (“If you had ruined this soup we’d be eating you for dinner, Thomas”).

The boy felt like a Greenie in the Glade again, trying all the different jobs until they finally assigned him to one. It was nostalgic, definitely. 

Thomas still couldn’t shake the lingering thought that he was hiding, however. Busying himself in the kitchen and sheds so he wouldn’t have to go and face his friends. It had been a very long day, and Thomas didn’t exactly have the energy left in him to talk with Newt, and Minho after his breakdown.

He was just tired. That’s all.

Luckily Frypan was more than willing to have Thomas stay in the kitchen during dinner and help clean, and Thomas suspected that Frypan could sense he didn’t want to go eat with everyone else, for whatever reason. They both had dinner while sitting on crate boxes near the back, and Thomas laughed at almost every other thing that came out of Fry’s mouth. He really was a great friend.

He had gotten lucky. Clean up lasted through dinner, and by the time Thomas had run out of reasons to loiter in the kitchen mostly everybody had already left for bed. He quietly escaped the kitchen and made a beeline for his own hut in the dark of night. He just wanted to sleep the day off.

Of course, Thomas wasn’t as lucky as he had thought.

“Oh, there you are!”

The brunette stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around. He felt like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He shoved his feet under the cool sand and waited for his two friends to catch up.

Thomas isn’t quite sure why he’s been avoiding them, or feeling so dreadful about everything. They’re his best friends, after all.

Minho reaches him first, quickly followed by Newt. Both have shit-eating grins on their faces and Thomas just really doesn’t want to find out why at the moment. He’s pretty sure he already knows, anyways.

“Where were you, Tommy?” Newt asks, “we kept your spot nice and warm for you but you never showed up.”

Thomas rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Frypan needed some extra help and I volunteered.”

Minho snorts. “You? In the kitchen?”

Thomas goes for friendly banter, gives him a smile that he knows looks exhausted. “You’d be surprised at my wide arrange of cooking knowledge, thank you very much.”

The noirette rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Listen though, there’s something really important Newt’s got to tell you, It’s about Sonya-”

Thomas winces. This was specifically why he had wanted to avoid interaction with them tonight. “Sorry, can this just wait ‘till morning? I got a million things I still need to do and-”

“Tommy,” Newt beams with pure joy and shiny eyes. “She’s my sister.”

His mind helpfully goes blank.

“Sorry... what?”

“Sonya’s my sister!” Newt doesn’t even falter. “That’s what she wanted to tell me earlier- WCKD let her keep a handful of memories as a variable in the trial and she remembers growing up together and her own name and me and-”

A surprised peal of laughter bubbles out of Thomas as he steps forward and wraps Newt in a hug. 

The blonde doesn’t miss a beat, just tucks himself against Thomas and holds onto his waist. Thomas can feel Newt grinning against the skin of his exposed neck. Thomas feels so much lighter and happy- he’s unbelievably happy for Newt.

He tells him as much, mumbling in the blonde hair, “that’s the best news ever. That’s- that’s amazing. I’m so, so happy for you, Newt.”

Minho joins in their hug and squeezes them all so tight it borderlines pain but nobody let’s go.

Thomas suddenly remembers the necklace in his pant pocket, the vial slightly digging into his thigh. He rubs his hand up and down Newt’s neck, feeling the warm body there, the steady pulse, and decides he might just hold on to it for a few more days.

He’s not ready to give up that piece of Newt just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet any of you who has read the fever code started freaking out when it sounded like sonya had a crush on newt hahAHA my longest yikes ever!! I really just wanted Newt and Sonya to reunite, especially since Newt died in canon without knowing his sister was right there the whole time ((holy shit that hurts why'd I say that))
> 
> Anyways I'm extremely pumped for this fic!!I recently put together a chapter organizer and am planning on around eight chapters total. So stick around ;-)
> 
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed the chapter, or if you think Dylan O'Brien is an extremely talented and beautiful human


	4. be there - seafret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! thank you for the continued support as always, and I apologize for uploading this a week late. Hopefully the length and fluff will make up for it ;)

Of course everyone thinks they're a couple.

Thomas sits back with his friends at breakfast, all minus Newt, who just happens to be the topic of conversation. The brunette is too sleep deprived to contribute anything useful to the conversation, so he settles for listening in quietly.

“I bet you that Newt’s with Sonya now,” Gally says abruptly, being the one to start the discussion.

Thomas and Minho share a look, but both silently agree it’s not worth the effort to correct them- Newt can do that. Thomas takes a large bite of his sandwich to busy his mouth.

Frypan glances over to where the two blondes sit some distance away. They’re talking casually, backs turned towards them. Sonya waves her hands in the air while she speaks and Newt looks thoughtfully engaged. “I think you might be right. Wow, look at our boy- all grown up.” He wipes away a fake tear.

Minho finally speaks up at that. “I’m pretty sure Newt is older than you.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel like a proud mother, Min. Be quiet or you don’t get lunch.”

Thomas zones out, blissfully tuning out the rest of their conversation in favor of watching the sun rise over the horizon in a sleep-muddled haze. Brenda, who sits next to him, catches his line of sight.

“Hello? Earth to Thomas?”

“‘M ‘ight ‘ere,” Thomas says with his mouth full, spittle flying. Brenda scrunches her nose and rolls her eyes.

“So...how do you feel about Newt and Sonya?”

Thomas swallows his food before speaking this time. “Hungry. But I think I’m just hungry, and that thought is distracting me from comprehending any other feeling right now.”

The girl sighs. “You are so much more difficult to deal with in the morning than at any other time, if that’s possible.” Brenda then scoots over in the sand and rests her head on Thomas’s shoulder. He continues eating and lets her, the same way he’d let Minho or Newt do the same thing. She is rather close though, if he thinks about it.

“I think you guys are jumping to conclusions,” Minho says, catching the brunettes attention back to him. “Why don’t you shanks go and ask the two if they’re together, if you’re so damn curious.”

Gally sits up straighter. “Fine, but just so we can settle this once and for all. I swear if Newt got a girlfriend before me…” he grumbles, but then calls over to the pair.

Sonya and the boy turn around at their names, and are met with views of their friends blatantly gawking. Minho whispers something about ‘idiots’ and shields his face with his hand.

Frypan motions for them to come here, and Newt begrudgingly gets up. Thomas can’t hear, but he sees his friend say something to his sister, and squeeze her arm as goodbye. He limps over casually, hands stuffed in his pant pockets.

“Is there a bloody good reason you lot are staring like kids at a zoo?” Newt asks, yawning.

Thomas watches his friend and can’t help but notice how vulnerable and soft he looks in the early morning light, with his hair mussed up from sleep. Blissful innocence is a wonderful look on him, Thomas decides.

“Actually yes,” Gally starts once more, mirth in his grin. “We just had a few questions for you about your lovely lady friend back there.”

Newt blinks, then shakes his head to clear it. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “You mean Sonya?”

“Sonya...hmm,” Frypan dramatically says, resting his head in his palm. “What a nice name.”

“A very nice name.”

Minho cracks and falls into a fit of giggles, turning away from the group. Newt spares him a glance with equal parts amusement and confusion.

“I...guess it is a nice name?” Newt says. Even Brenda snickers at that from her place on Thomas’s shoulder. 

“Let’s just get right to business, friend,” Gally says seriously again. “No more beating around the bush.”

“But I wasn’t-”

“Enough small talk! We just have one question.”

Newt sighs at his friend's antics and decides to sit down, stepping over Brenda's legs to plop down on the log behind Thomas. He reaches down in the sand and snatches the brunettes water, who only mildly complains with a swat to the blonde’s thigh.

Newt brings the cup to his lips. “Ask away, but if it’s something dumb and you shanks made me walk over here for nothing-”

“Are you dating Sonya?”

Newt spits his water out, the spray landing on them all.

“Hey!”

 

“That,” Minho says, wiping his sleeve over his face, “was probably the grossest thing I've seen you done. Minus that one time in the Glade where-”

Newt is still choking on his water, but he leaps over and clamps a hand over Minho’s mouth.

Thomas is holding back laughter, chewing on the inside of his lip. He reaches over and thumps his blonde friend on the back until he starts breathing again.

“You-” Newt coughs, clears his throat. “You shanks. You trying to kill me? No, me and Sonya are not dating, actually-”

“Seriously?” Frypan asks. “You're not?”

“No! And in fact, if you’d let me finish, I would've said she's my sister.” Newt says between his teeth.

Gally smiles at him blankly. “What?”

Frypan just blinks dumbly.

And with that, Newt launches into his story- retelling of everything Sonya has confessed to remembering. Sometime in the middle, Newt ends up besides his brunette friend while talking, and it feels so natural for Thomas to throw his arm around the blonde, watching the boy happily chatting away, with bright eyes and a grin.

+

After rounds of congratulations and warm hugs, the group of friends disperse after breakfast. Jobs around Paradise are shaky, and not assigned, so Thomas wanders around with Newt until they find somebody who needs help.

“I bet that felt good,” Thomas says. “Getting it off your chest.”

Newt grins, bumps his shoulder against his friend. “It did. It kinda feels like i’m bursting- just ready to say it all the time. My sister.”

Thomas smiles back with him, and has the sudden urge to trace the curve of Newt’s lips with his finger.

He jolts at the intrusive thought. What..?

Before Newt can ask about it, however, Sonya catches up with the two, placing a small hand on the both of their backs.

“Hey! Is this a bad time, am I interrupting something?” She glances between the two.

Newt curiously flushes. “No, we’re not doing anything. Why?”

Sonya gently tugs on her older brother’s arm. “I want to introduce you to Aris and Harriet as my brother. They don’t know yet. Will you come?”

The blonde boy snorts, reaches over and tugs on the girl’s braid. “Want me to approve of your little boyfriend, right?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Thomas snickers in his hand, and the two siblings look over to him.

Sonya’s eyes soften. “Sorry, Thomas, can I steal Newt from you for a bit?”

The brunette straightens himself out, and places a hand on Newt’s arm, pushing him towards the girl a bit. “Yeah! Of course you can. I’ve been trying to shake him off all day,” he jokes.

Newt kicks his shin lightly. “Oh shut it, you bugger. Will I see you tonight at dinner?”

Thomas smiles. “Yeah...yeah, I’ll find you.”

Sonya waves in goodbye before dragging Newt along with her down the beach. Thomas watches the two, warmth blossoming in his chest at the sight. He doesn’t recall ever feeling so happy for somebody else.

Thomas’s reverie is broken by the soft sounds of patted feet coming from behind him. He turns to see Brenda, looking between him and where Newt and his sister have now walked down the beach.

“Hey,” Brenda greets him. Thomas smiles back at his friend, wondering just how long she had been there listening.

“Hey, what's up? Did you need something?”

“Actually, yes,” Brenda replies. “It's been what, a week? Since you've woken up, and I've only been able to catch you a handful of times. If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to get rid of me.” She jokes, but the boy can see the hesitance in her expression.

Thomas hooks an arm around the girl to lightly pull her in. “Good thing you know better then, right?”

She snorts, but leans into the embrace. “Yeah I guess so. You free right now?”

“Totally. I mean, uh...I think I was supposed to find work? But-”

Brenda swats at him, before grabbing his wrist and dragging his towards the far ends of the beach. “Hush. You’re still recovering...or at least that can be your excuse. Let’s go in the ocean-it’s hot.”

Thomas is about to reply, when Brenda’s hand slips lower and into his. It's only for a second- then it’s back in its place on the boy’s wrist. He almost questions it, but decides to keep quiet. It was more than likely just a slip.

The afternoon passes slowly, but leisurably. Thomas finds himself easily slipping into casual conversation with Brenda, relaxing in her presence. They’ve been through so much together, and their friendship was formed during a hard time- the boy would’ve thought talking to her about normal topics would feel...strange. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s quite the opposite.

Brenda wiggles her toes in the sand from her place besides Thomas. They had gone down to the waves and cooled off, before being sent off to gather kindling for the nightly bonfire by an adult from the Right Arm. It was tedious work, and their conversation only slowed them down further, but once they had finished Brenda dragged the both of them right back down to the beach to watch the sun fall and wait for supper.

Thomas sighs contently. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Brenda smiles. It falters at her next thought. “I wonder if my family would’ve liked the beach.”

The brunette looks over at her, sympathy softening his features. He chews on his lip, looks down at the crashing waves. “Me too...I wish our friends could’ve seen it- just once.”

“Anybody in particular you’re thinking of?”

Thomas smiles sadly. “A boy, back from my Glade. His name was Chuck. He was like my little brother. He would’ve gone crazy over this place.” He laughs softly, his breath slightly hitching. “Theresa, too.”

Brenda’s heart clenches. She doesn’t look over, but she reaches out until her pinky grazes the other’s own. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

There’s a pause, but then Thomas hooks his finger to interlock with Brenda’s, offering comfort to them both. “Me, too.”

The silence hangs over them like a veil. The sounds of the survivors prepping for the meal behind them are small, easily drowned out by the sea.

“Do you love her?”

Thomas jolts at the unexpected question. He looks over, but Brenda is steelily not meeting his gaze. “What?”

“I’m just...curious. You don’t have to answer.”

Thomas lets that sit. He closes his eyes- tentatively bringing up memories he has of the girl. He hadn’t meant to push them away, but...he had needed to.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I think I used to. It feels like I used to- like maybe we were something more before the maze.” He swallows thickly, forces the next words out of his mouth. “I don’t love her now, and I feel bad for that.”

Brenda finally turns to him. “Why do you feel bad?”  
Thomas gestures around with his free hand and puffs out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I used to love her...but what if I did? What if I did and- and just forgot about her when my memory was erased? How do you forget something like that?”

Brenda surprises him by taking his face into her hands. Thomas looks down awkwardly, trying to understand the expression on the girl’s face.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

“No.”

Brenda gives him a stern look, and Thomas apprehensively complies.

“Now,” Brenda begins softly. “Think about Theresa. The one that you know now, not some construct of her you think you may have forgotten. What do you feel?”

Bright orange flames flicker behind his eyelids as he remembers her last moments. “Pain.”

A thumb strokes his jaw in a soothing gesture. “What else?”

Thomas allows himself to feel and not think. He remembers Theresa’s smiles, and the way she understood him in a way that no one else did. How she betrayed him- how she made it up by saving Newt. Her sacrifice.

Thomas opens his eyes and is met by Brenda’s dark brown ones staring at him intensely; searching.

“Warmth,” Thomas says. “Love, but not the kind you’re thinking of. I love Theresa- but I don’t think I'm in love with her.”

Brenda scans his face, and when she seems satisfied with his answer, lets his face go. Thomas resists the urge to scoot out of other’s personal space. “Did that help?”

“It...it really did. Thank you.”

The girl hums. “You shouldn’t feel bad for your emotions. You can’t control those, Thomas. Whether you loved her in a past life is beyond your control. Cherish what you can feel now, alright?”

Thomas laughs gently, and cards his fingers through Brenda’s short hair. “Thanks, Brenda. You’re surprisingly wiser than your looks suggest,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up.”

The two fall into a companionable silence once more as the horizon continues to darken. Thomas lets himself ponder over Brenda’s last words. What does he feel now? Today? At this very moment?

He thinks back to yesterday, his mind rewinding to the exact point he felt the first sharp jab of emotion. It was at breakfast, when Minho suggested that perhaps Sonya was interested in Newt. His stomach had flopped uneasily. And then again, when he witnessed his blonde friend pull the girl into affectionate embrace. Why did his chest suddenly tense at the sight? Then there was the immediate weight off his shoulder when Newt admitted Sonya was merely his long lost sister. It was like he became ten times lighter, and joy blossomed in his heart as he pulled the taller boy into his hold.

Thomas hadn’t had time to properly comprehend his strange reactions as they had happened, but now, he wonders what they mean. He’s hesitant to approach the thought; worried it might spin him down a road that he’ll have no means of understanding. Even now, he’s still confused about the fluctuating emotions that spring up when he thinks of the incident.

A thought suddenly strikes Thomas, and he gratefully goes after the distraction. “Hey, Brenda, since you brought it up,” he cheekily says, “is there anybody you’re in love with?”

Thomas is expecting a shove and for the girl to tell him to mind his own business- maybe the name of a former lover of hers at best. What he’s not expecting, is for Brenda to halt, before slowly turning to face him. Her eyes drag up and down Thomas’s features before settling back on meeting the chocolate brown orbs. She purses her lips.

“Yeah,” she says, so quietly it’s almost lost to the breeze. “I think I am.”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say.

Fortunately for him, he isn’t given time to formulate a response before Brenda is hopping up, brushing sand off her pants. “Come on,” she says, seemingly back to her old brash self. “Let’s get dinner- I’m starving and not about to be late because you’re feeling slow.”

Thomas shakes his head to clear it, before standing to join her. “I’m not that slow…” he mumbles, but his thoughts are distracted. What the hell was that all about?

Brenda beats him to dishing up, and they both walk over to meet their small group of friends, who have saved seats in the cooling sand for them. Thomas engages in conversation, savors the food in front of him, and laughs at everybody’s antics- but his thoughts are elsewhere. He barely notices when the number of people around the campfire begin to diminish, and is only broken out of his reverie by a familiar body planting themselves next to his own. He turns and smiles at Newt, their sides flush against one another.

“What’re you sitting here daydreaming about, Tommy?” Newt asks lightly, glancing around. “Everybody else left about ten minutes ago.”

Had he really been lost in thought for that long? Thomas bumps the other’s shoulder with this own. “Except for you, it seems.”

Newt snorts. “Somebody’s gotta’ make sure your shuck butt makes it to bed.”

“This is why Chuck used to call you the ‘Mom of the Glade’ behind your back,” Thomas laughs. Newt looks scandalized, before breaking into a grin.

“Okay, seriously, what’s on your mind?”

The younger boy plays with the sand beneath them, getting it on them both. He shrugs. “Nothing really. I just had the strangest talk with Brenda earlier...was mulling that over.”

One of Newt’s eyebrow raises. “Good weird or bad weird?”

“Good, I guess? She talked me through some stuff, but got funny at the end.”

Newt playfully elbows him. “Maybe you were lookin’ at the poor girl odd or something. You do have that unfortunate habit of making people uncomfortable, you know.”

Thomas actually does shove Newt into the ground this time, ignoring the boy’s fit of giggles and indignant yelp as the cool sand trickles into his clothes. The brunette is just starting to shovel up enough sand to dump in the boy’s hair, when a snicker from behind them catches both of their attention. Sonya waves shyly, walking up to sit on the log across the boys.

“I never would’ve expected the two of you to be so childish,” she hums. “It’s a good look.”

Newt sits up, brushing himself off. “It’s Tommy here that’s the immature one.”

“You called me a twat a few days ago, and then laughed about the word,” Thomas retorts. The other boy sticks his pink tongue out at him, and Thomas rolls his eyes.

Sonya grins. “Well, if you two are done acting five, I was hoping to talk to you real quick? It’ll just take a second.”

Thomas makes a noise of understanding, and nods.. “Sure, Sonya. Go ahead- I’ll just give you guys some privacy.” He begins to stand.

“Wait,” she puts a hand out to stop him. “I wanna talk to you, too, Thomas. The both of you.”

The brunette’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but he nods, and hesitantly sits back down next to the blonde boy- who seems equally as lost.

“What’s this about, Sonya?” Newt asks.

Sonya wrings her hands. “It’s nothing bad- you two can wipe that worried look off your faces. I’m just...trying to figure out where to start.”

Newt and Thomas both lean forward to give the girl their full attention as she takes a deep breath and begins speaking.

“You already know I have parts of my memory still. Not all of it- not even close. Just a few little details here and there, like knowing Newt’s my brother. I’m still not sure why WCKD would let me keep some of it, but I’ve always assumed it was all part of their trials. Just another variable in their game.”

Everybody stiffens uncomfortably at the mention of WCKD, but the girl plows on.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter to me why I can remember things you guys can’t; only that I can. At first, back in our own Glade, I couldn’t recall anything of the past. My memory was wiped completely clean. But, over time, little things started coming to me. Old smells, what my mother looked like, and then eventually my name.”

“Lizzie…” Newt breathes. Sonya smiles at him.

“Right. None of it was all at once- but the weird thing was that all the memories were triggered by something. I got my real name back when some girls were talking about the subject, wondering about theirs. It just popped into my head and I knew it wasn’t something I had come up with- it was a recovered memory...The same thing happened when I saw you for the first time, Newt.”

Thomas sits up. “What happened?” he asks, since it looks like his friend is too speechless to.

Sonya sighs. “I always kinda knew I had a brother- or at least some sort of sibling, before the maze. Then when our two groups found each other after breaking out, I knew it was you. I looked at your face for the first time and it was like the final puzzle piece sliding into place.”

“W-Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Newt asks, but he doesn’t sound angry; just curious.

“I’m sorry. I know, I should’ve. I just couldn’t bring myself to. It was the most important thing I had remembered, and I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you then, when we were just strangers. I was worried you wouldn’t believe me,” she admits. Then she seems to recollect herself, and starts again. “This wasn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you guys about, though. I remembered something new- about the both of you.”

Thomas perks up. “You do? What is it?”

The younger girl slides off the log to be on level ground with them. She tucks her knees in and hugs them, looking between the two boys. “It’s kinda fuzzy, cause it just came to me a little bit ago, but I think it’s from before the mazes. From before any of this.”

Newt’s breath hitches in his throat.

“I don’t know how or why, but we were all at WCKD Headquarters. You guys, me, Harriet- everybody who was ever in the maze was there. We hardly saw each other, though. I remember always being locked away in a small room, and when I wasn’t there, I was in a classroom or lab. The only reason I knew there were other kids there was because I saw glimpses of them in the hallways. Only for a few seconds, and rarely at that. Until you came and saw me.”

Sonya points at her brother, who looks dumbfounded. “Me?” Newt asks. “How? I find it hard to believe that WCKD would care enough to give siblings time to visit.

The girl shakes her head once more. “It wasn’t WCKD that let me see you, not really at least...It was Thomas.”

Thomas’s stomach falls. “What?”

She nods. “Apparently, you had snuck Newt out to me. I don’t know how you were able to, but you did. One day I was sitting alone in my room, and you burst in with Newt by your side, saying something about how we had to be fast. You let us say goodbye,” Sonya smiles sadly, tears in her eyes. A quick glance at his side lets Thomas know Newt is looking much the same. As for him, he can only listen in shock.

“We-” Thomas clears his throat, tries again. “We knew each other before? Me and Newt?”

Sonya looks between the two boys with an oddly fond expression on her face. “Yeah. You two were close, even back then. Erasing your memories couldn’t stop that.”

Thomas is gaping. Newt is silent, but turns and buries his face in Thomas’s neck. On instinct, the brunette leans towards the touch, resting his own head atop the mop of blonde hair.

“Thank you,” Newt suddenly says into Thomas’s throat, his words muffled. Sonya smiles, reaches across and squeezes both their hands.

+

Sonya eventually leaves. After the boy had recollected himself, Newt had sent the younger girl back towards her hut, telling her to go to bed before she caught a cold. The blonde had rolled her eyes, but complied, wishing them both a goodnight.

Thomas and Newt don’t leave quite yet, though. It’s late, nearing midnight, and the ocean’s breeze has turned the air cold, but it would feel wrong to go to bed now; to just sleep over all that’s happened- so they stay.

Newt voices that very thought aloud, from his place resting on Thomas’s shoulder. “Is it just me, or do things feel weird now?”

Thomas smirks. “Good weird, or bad weird?”

The blonde snorts. “You’re unbearable. Good, though.” Newt says, and scoots closer, tucking his chilled hands into his pockets.

Thomas exhales, watches his breath condense in the dark. The blackened ocean soothes the boy’s frayed nerves. “What are you thinking about?” he asks the boy next to him.

“That you really have been here with me this whole time,” Newt replies easily. That knocks the breath out of Thomas.

“Newt…”

“Thank you for sneaking me in to see my sister, Tommy,” Newt says, his voice strained to try and keep it level. He has to swallow a lump in his throat down.

Thomas looks down at the blonde, but Newt doesn't meet his gaze; instead taking to playing with the palm of Thomas’s hand. He lets him, but can’t keep the confusion out of his voice when he softly asks, “You know I don’t remember any of this, Newt...what are you doing?”

The blonde shrugs, knocking his shoulder into the other’s body. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember. I don’t either, Tommy. I just...appreciate you for always having my back, even before we knew. Thank you.”

Thomas doesn’t know how to reply- how is he supposed to accept thanks for something he’s not even sure he did? But then he feels a distant pang of something long lost in his chest- something hollow, and not quite there, but he’s sure of it. It’s like coming back to a home you’ve forgotten about. It’s not recognizable anymore, but it feels just the same. Thomas coughs shakily, and slips his hand into Newt’s.

“Of course, Newt,” he says quietly. “You’re welcome.”

Newt squeezes their entwined hands tightly, the warmth seeping between them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fangirling at my own fanfic. It's taken a lot of build up, but from here on out it's veryy newtmas centric ;-)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed the chapter or think Brenda is a beautiful bad ass then feel free to leave a kudos


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